Table Of ContentBecause of Gus McBride, he’d had nothing.
No father, no grandparents on either side. No one to chase away the monsters in
his closet, no dad to teach him to fish. No knowledge of where he came from or
where he was going.
His mother had tried to step up and fill the role of both parents, and she’d done a
damn good job. But she’d needed a husband, and he’d needed a father. They’d
had neither. Because Gus McBride had been halfway across the country,
protecting his real family.
And Taylor would bet that his legitimate children weren’t scared at night
growing up. They didn’t worry about paying the bills or having enough money.
Growing up, they’d had it all. Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d
thought their daddy was a saint.
He wasn’t. Unfortunately, they’d never know that.
Unless he told them.
Dear Reader, The days are hot and the reading is hotter here at Silhouette
Intimate Moments. Linda Turner is back with the next of THOSE MARRYING
M BRIDES! in Always a McBride. Taylor Bishop has only just found out about
C
his familial connection—and he has no idea it’s going to lead him straight to
love.
In Shooting Starr, Kathleen Creighton ratchets up both the suspense and the
romance in a story of torn loyalties you’ll long remember. Carla Cassidy returns
to CHEROKEE CORNERS in Last Seen…, a novel about two people whose
circumstances ought to prevent them from falling in love but don’t. On Dean’s
Watch is the latest from reader favorite Linda Winstead Jones, and it will keep
you turning the pages as her federal marshal hero falls hard for the woman he’s
supposed to be keeping an undercover watch over. Roses After Midnight, by
Linda Randall Wisdom, is a suspenseful look at the hunt for a serial rapist—and
the blossoming of an unexpected romance. Finally, take a look at Debra
Cowan’s Burning Love and watch passion flare to life between a female arson
investigator and the handsome cop who may be her prime suspect.
Enjoy them all—and come back next month for more of the best and most
exciting romance reading around.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger Executive Editor
Always a McBride
LINDA TURNER
Books by Linda Turner
Silhouette Intimate Moments
The Echo of Thunder #238
Crosscurrents #263
An Unsuspecting Heart #298
Flirting with Danger #316
Moonlight and Lace #354
The Love of Dugan Magee #448
*
Gable’s Lady #523
*
Cooper #553
*
Flynn #572
*
Kat #590
Who’s the Boss? #649
The Loner #673
Maddy Lawrence’s Big Adventure #709
The Lady in Red #763
†
I’m Having Your Baby?! #799
†
A Marriage-Minded Man? #829
†
The Proposal #847
†
Christmas Lone-Star Style #895
**
The Lady’s Man #931
**
A Ranching Man #992
**
The Best Man #1010
**
Never Been Kissed #1051
The Enemy’s Daughter #1064
The Man Who Would Be King #1124
**
Always a McBride #1231
Silhouette Desire
A Glimpse of Heaven #220
Wild Texas Rose #653
Philly and the Playboy #701
The Seducer #802
Heaven Can’t Wait #929
Silhouette Special Edition
Shadows in the Night #350
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Christmas Kisses 1996
“A Wild West Christmas”
Fortune’s Children
The Wolf and the Dove
A Fortune’s Children Christmas 2002
“The Christmas Child”
Crowned Hearts 2002
“Royally Pregnant”
A Colton Family Christmas 2002
“Take No Prisoners”
Under Western Skies 2002
“Marriage on the Menu”
The Coltons
The Virgin Mistress
LINDA TURNER
began reading romances in high school and began writing them one night when
she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single, and living in
Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Prologue
H
e was a bastard.
Even before he’d been old enough to understand the meaning of the word,
Taylor Bishop had known what he was. There was, after all, no avoiding the
truth in the poverty-ridden neighborhoods of San Diego where he’d grown up.
Dozens of kids were running around the street without fathers, and like
recognized like.
Still, he hadn’t understood the implications of the label until he was six and
one of his school friends told him his mother must be a slut—otherwise his
father would have married her. Outraged, his six-year-old pride stung, he’d
defended his mother’s virtue and his absent father’s honor by punching his
friend in the nose. All his bravery earned him was a split lip.
That was the day he’d begun to hate his father.
Thirty-five years had passed since then, and nothing had changed. He still
hated his father…and he didn’t even know his name.
That, however, was about to change.
Seated at his mother’s kitchen table, her personal effects spread out around
him in the small home she’d finally managed to buy after scrimping and saving
for years, Taylor stared down at the sealed letter she’d left for him in her safety
deposit box and knew without even opening what it said. After all this time,
when it was too late for him to ask her any questions, she was finally going to
tell him about his father.
“He’s a good man. That’s all you need to know.”
Every time he’d asked his mother about the mysterious stranger who had
sired him, the answer had always been the same. She’d promised to tell him the
whole story one day, but she never had. Why? he wondered, scowling at the
letter addressed to him in her neat handwriting. Had she thought that he would
think less of her because he was obviously illegitimate? That he somehow
blamed her for the fact that his father had been nonexistent in his life? Surely she
had to know better.
For a moment, pain squeezed his heart at the thought that she might not have
known how much he loved and admired her, but with a muttered curse, he
quickly shook off his doubts. What the hell was he doing? Of course she’d
known how he felt about her. As far as he was concerned, she’d been the best
mother in the world. She was the one who’d been there for him as a child, the
one who’d worked two jobs so that he could have the things he needed when he
was growing up. Yes, money had been tight, but she’d done the best that she
could, and he couldn’t fault her for that. She’d been a single mother with no one
to help her. When she lost her job at one of the local hotels because she refused
to work nights and leave him home alone, she’d had to go on welfare for a while
just so they could eat. Still, she’d held her head high and made sure he did, too.
And as soon as she’d been able to find another job, she went off government
assistance because, she’d claimed, there were poor people out there who needed
it more than they did.
How could anyone not love a mother like that? He’d adored her. She taught
him to be proud of who he was, to work honestly for what he wanted, to believe
in himself and the future. Those things would get him through life, she’d
claimed, not his father’s name.
So why was she telling him now? he wondered with a frown. When she’d
died unexpectedly last week of an apparent heart attack, the last thing he’d been
worried about was his father’s name. She was the one he loved, the one he cared
about, and he would have gladly given up any chance of ever knowing anything
about his father if he could have just had his mother back for five minutes.
That, however, was impossible. All he had left of her were her things…and a
letter that had the power to change his life. His square-cut face carved in grim
lines, he was half tempted to trash the thing, but it was the last communication
from his mother. For no other reason than that, he had to read it. Reaching for it,
he tore it open and began to read.
To my dear son,
You’ll never know how much I love you. You’ve been the
greatest joy of my life, a blessing I thanked God for every day. I
know how difficult it was for you, growing up without your father,
and I’m sorry for that. But your father wasn’t the unfeeling monster
you think he was, dear. He was a good man who had no idea you
even existed. His name is Gus McBride, and when we met, he lived
in Liberty Hill, Colorado.
We met in Cheyenne, Wyoming, when I was there one summer
visiting my grandmother. I never believed in love at first sight until I
met him. He was in town for a rodeo and we had one wonderful
night together. That was all, dear. Just one night. I fell in love with
him, but please don’t blame him because he didn’t return my
